


In the Nick of Time

by artoriusrex (jesusonaunicycle)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Foggy Nelson Is a Good Bro, Forgive Me, Insecurity, Karen Page is Very Patient, Meet-Cute, Multi, Pre-Slash, The Infamous Eel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesusonaunicycle/pseuds/artoriusrex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy Nelson is Karen Page's best friend. Karen Page's other best friend meets her old best friend. But there's a lot more to this story than it seems.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>“Isn’t that one of the first things you’ve ever said to me? What—What did you call me? A duck?”</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Nick of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I... have returned.
> 
> With Daredevil fanfic.
> 
> Merry Christmas.
> 
> Please shoot me I am a lowly, subpar Merlin-fic-writer with a bad habit of starting things she can't finish; also I love Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson and Karen Page, my Wonderful Three™, my Trash Children™.
> 
> This is a little meet-cute from a prompt I got off tumblr: "my significant other cheated on me with you, wanna team up to destroy them?" As you can probably tell, I lifted it and morphed it into something of my own. SO, here you go. If there are any inaccuracies, do not hesitate to tell me, and feel free to rag on me, this is the first time I've written these two and their voices are a bit new to me. Constructive criticisms, please!!

 

Matt Murdock generally avoided airports, as a rule. Too many people, too many sounds, scents—airplane exhaust, body odor and engine fuel weren’t very pleasant smells, especially in combination—and therefore just too hellish for his delicate senses. So, when he found himself lingering outside of JFK waiting for Karen, he was very surprised his probably thunderous expression didn’t scare off the man who dared to speak to him.

“Whoa, did someone shit in your cornflakes or something this morning? Or do you glare at everyone that way?” said an unfamiliar voice, breaking through Matt’s careful concentration. It wasn’t a necessarily _grating_ voice; just extremely unwelcome at the moment.

“Excuse me?” Matt snapped, his patience already wearing thin.

Matt heard the man’s heartbeat stutter and had a brief flicker of guilt. Brief. Tiny. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I have serious foot-in-mouth syndrome. I, uh, I’m here on the behalf of Karen? She said you would be waiting out here.”

Matt frowned. Karen said she wouldn’t be long; she knew he didn’t like airports, and JFK was a rather large one. She’d promised to be right out to him. “Is Karen okay?” he asked, fidgeting with his cane. The man’s heartbeat stuttered again.

“She’s fine! Don’t worry about it, buddy, fix your face. I think I prefer the fearsome glower to the wounded duck look you have going on right now. Pulls on the heartstrings, man.”

The man’s heartbeat was steady, if a little fast. He wasn’t lying. Still, Matt was more than a little suspicious, and he tried valiantly not to be amused at the clearly nervous man in front of him. “And how do you know this? Not to be forward,” he pressed, certainly intending to be forward. 

The man squeaked in surprise and immediately started babbling. “Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself, I’m an asshole. My name’s Foggy. Karen flew out to meet me and bring me back home. And you are Matt Murdock, right? I’ve not just ambushed a random, seriously hot blind guy who has no idea what I’m talking about? Fuck, was that offensive?”

Matt couldn’t help his sharp bark of laughter. Usually, people tiptoed around his disability—to hear a perfect stranger just stumble on it was… refreshing. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m Matt. And Karen is…?”

“Getting coffee,” Foggy breathed out a sigh of relief. “She says the only cure for after-plane stiffness is airport coffee. I think she’s just trying to make herself feel better about her abysmal coffee-making skills. But who am I to challenge her delusion?”

Matt laughed again. When Karen said he needed to pick her up from the airport, he’d been a little dumbfounded. Karen was a big girl, as she’d told him a hundred times, and didn’t need any help getting anywhere. Now he knew why she’d asked him to come. Karen had brought her childhood best friend back home, and wanted them to meet.

_“Foggy’s great, Matt,”_ Karen had said as she was leaving the office Thursday to board her plane. _“I think you’ll really like him. We went to high school together, but he moved out to Chicago with his boyfriend after they got accepted to UC.”_

Well, he didn’t really know about how great Foggy was, but Matt certainly wasn’t complaining at the moment. He seemed charming, in an awkward kind of way. If that made any sense.

“I would try not to say things like that to Karen’s face. She may seem innocent, but she’s scarier than she looks.”

It was Foggy’s turn to laugh. Matt had a feeling it wasn’t his _full_ laugh; it was a weak, choked-off chuckle that didn’t fit his rather large personality. “And how would you know if our sweet Karen looks innocent?” he asked good-naturedly. Matt tried to hide the pleasant smile that came from Foggy referring to _their_ Karen.

“I’ve been told I have a knack for it,” Matt demurred, keeping his smile polite and mild. Foggy choked again.

“Like a superpower? An attractive-people-finder?”

_Oh, if only you knew._ “Gotta compensate somehow, you know?”

Foggy snorted with laughter this time. And Matt was right, those chuckles were _not_ the full force of Foggy’s laugh. It was positively huge; great, wheezing breaths and adorable little snorts. Matt couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He was probably looking a little idiotic when Karen stepped up, too busy in his own thoughts to recognize the sensible taps of her beloved flats.

“Well, look at you two,” she said, smug. “It’s almost as if I knew this would happen all along.”

“Aw, Karen,” Foggy said after his laughter petered off, but Matt could still hear the notes of genuine amusement in his voice, “don’t be so glum. I would never trade you, not for anyone.”

“Yeah, like _that’s_ what I’m worried about.”

“Karen,” Matt interrupted smoothly, smiling the charming smile he reserved for the courtroom. And if he reveled in how both of their heartbeats ticked up just a bit, he never said vanity wasn’t one of his sins. “Are you going to introduce us formally?”

Karen huffed, used to his wiles by now, but complied nonetheless. “Matthew Murdock, this is Foggy Nelson, esquire, and my best friend. Foggy, this is Matthew Murdock, esquire, and professional pain in my ass. He’s also my boss.”

Matt could hear Foggy’s heart trip up a little when he turned in Foggy’s general direction. “Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, purposefully a little to the right, playing up the blind angle just a bit. Foggy’s hand was warm and a little sweaty when they shook hands.

“Same. Well, officially, I guess. Karen talks about her hot blind lawyer boss a lot,” Foggy said, his voice faux-casual and his heartbeat steady, if a bit fast. Matt decides he likes Foggy’s heartbeat. Karen makes a choked sound in her throat and he can see the bloom of a blush appear on her cheeks.

“Foggy—” she started, already whacking him on the shoulder (quite hard, actually, he’s been subject to those smacks before), but Matt cuts her off with a hushed, genuine laugh.

“I’m sure my employee doesn’t gossip about how attractive I am,” he said, to which Foggy scoffed _loudly._

“Yeah, right! Karen’s the biggest gossip around. She was full of information in high school, never stopped talking, especially about cute boys who we were into— _oof_!”

“Isn’t Foggy just a charmer?” Karen demurred, sweet as steel and not a smidgen smug. Matt could practically feel her pleasure as Foggy rubbed where his friend had elbowed him. “I can’t wait until Foggy gets settled in again. I’m sure his mother will be very happy he’s home.”

“You’re from around here?” Matt asked, graciously taking up another line of conversation. Karen’s relief was palpable; Matt knew about her hero-crush, the one that made him supremely uncomfortable with her working for him at first, but she had been too good of an asset, and too wonderful a person, to pass up. She’d long since gotten over it, if the frequent trips to the bakery down the block was any indication. Her levels of satisfaction were just a little _too_ high every time she came back.

Foggy nodded, and then seemed to catch himself halfway through the action and said, “I nodded. Yeah, I was born in Hell’s Kitchen. My parents had to move out to Jersey when I was young, though, around six, so. But they moved back after I went to college.” His voice was carefree and light, like he was smiling.

Matt hoped his blink of surprise wasn’t obvious behind his glasses. It was unusual for someone to be so open about their past with him; Karen had been as tight-lipped as he was, at first, and Matt was sure he still didn’t know everything about Karen that there was. To hear Foggy’s unabashed telling, even something as innocuous as his (very) vague childhood, was stunning. Struck to silence, Karen picked up the slack (like she always did).

“That’s where I met Foggy,” she said, looping her arm through Foggy’s. Foggy’s heart seemed to thrum with affection, and it was shot through Karen’s voice. “We went to school together; he punched one of the kids bullying me, and we’ve been close ever since.”

That startled a laugh out of Matt. Karen just had to have friends with bully-punching tendencies, didn’t she?

“I think there’s a few things missing from that story,” Foggy chimed, still light-hearted and cheery, “but that can wait for later. Cab’s here!”

Matt startled. He didn’t even hear the car roll up; he’d been too invested in Karen and Foggy, which was… new. Definitely something to investigate. Or avoid.

But the next thing he knew, he was getting in the cab with them. It wasn’t an awkward ride at all; Foggy and Karen kept a steady stream of chatter, and Matt surprised everyone by laughing himself sore. Foggy went the extra mile to include Matt, using colorful language and a technicolor voice to give body to the things he described. He could hear the cabbie’s amused huff every once and a while, and when he dropped them off in front of Karen’s apartment, he accepted Foggy’s fare with a gracious, “Thank you very much,” instead of the usual grunt Matt receives when _he_ pays his cabbies. Foggy seemed to glow with happiness.

“They’re never polite.” Foggy beamed—or, well, Matt imagined he beamed, it seemed like Foggy was always smiling—after the cab had pulled away. Matt could sense Karen’s eye-roll.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re irresistible. Now, say bye-bye to your new best friend, we’re going to be taking a break from him.” Despite her words, Karen’s voice was fond. Matt could hear her pleased heartbeat when Matt smiled at her.

Foggy laughed, but he dutifully turned to Matt, a bright, orange-yellow form of happiness in Matt’s vision. “Bye-bye,” he said to Matt, and Matt couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his throat, despite his better judgment.

“Goodbye, Foggy. It was nice to meet you,” he said, and actually found himself meaning it. He had to remind himself that he didn’t really _know_ Foggy. To be this charmed so quickly was dangerous, to say the least.

Foggy, it seemed, had no qualms. “Same, buddy,” he said cheerily, and to Matt’s surprise, he saw an orange-yellow fist poised by his own. He heard a heartbeat trip up and stutter. “I’m ready for a fist-bump, man, on your right, straight ahead.”

Matt’s confusion must have been obvious, because Karen snorted into what sounded like her sleeve. Foggy didn’t relent, though, so Matt slowly, cautiously raised his fist, and tapped his knuckles lightly against Foggy’s (with a little bit of encouragement from Foggy’s tiny, almost imperceptible noises). At the contact, Foggy cheered, “Hell _yeah,_ you just got a fist-bump from Foggy Philip Nelson. How do you feel?”

_Perplexed. Flabbergasted. Terrified._ “Ecstatic,” Matt deadpanned, but his heart didn’t trip with dishonesty. Not even once.

Foggy, never the one to be deterred, Matt was guessing, laughed, but his heart was thundering _._ “Aw, you can’t fool me, you loved it. I can see it all over your face.”

Matt tried not to let his terror show.

“While your flirting is adorable, I’m really tired and these flats are uncomfortable,” Karen called, breaking through Matt’s internal screaming. “Come on, Foggy. Let Matt reboot.”

Matt was giving Karen a raise. He was giving her _all_ the raises. “Good luck unpacking,” he said to them, and they both bid him farewell, with threats to drag him out to the local dive bar later (Josie’s was iconic, and Foggy insisted on hitting up the old bar for nostalgia’s sake to Karen). As Matt was dutifully tapping his way home, he couldn’t help but tune into Foggy and Karen’s conversation.

“I see that look on your face, Karen. And I’m going to tell you exactly what I told you on the phone, I am _not_ interested.”

“That is such a lie,” Karen huffed; Matt could see her hands rooting themselves on her hips. “I bet you’ve been ogling him since you saw him, and it’s obvious he likes you. You can totally work that! Matt’s a sweetheart.”

Foggy scoffed. “He doesn’t even _know_ me, Ker. We’ve known each other for, like, two hours.” Intrigued, Matt ducked into an alley right by their apartment building to eavesdrop.

Karen made a frustrated noise. “But you know of him! And he knows stuff about you, too! And it seemed you guys really hit it off, I don’t understand—”

_“Karen,”_ Foggy snapped, his voice firm. Matt blinked in surprise. It seemed Foggy was, too, because he sighed and murmured, almost too soft for Matt to hear, “I’m sorry. I just—it’s been rough, okay? And I don’t think I’m ready for anything yet. Even with cute blind lawyers,” he added, just to make Karen giggle, probably, because there it was.

Karen’s voice was still subdued when she spoke. “Okay, Foggy. I’m sorry I pushed. Just, please come out with us tonight. I’ve missed my best friend.” The words were sincere, but there was something else. Matt didn’t doubt for a second Karen was done matchmaking.

Foggy sighed affectionately. “Yeah, of course, Ker. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Besides, Josie has undoubtedly missed my ruggedly handsome face!”

After that, the two dissolved into more inside jokes and friendly ribbing, the stuff Matt had always witnessed but never took part of. It made a little piece of him ache, just a bit, before he pushed off the wall of the alley and started walking again.

He was definitely _not_ going out tonight. Well-meaning matchmaking aside, Matt just couldn’t get attached to another person. He already had Karen. _That settles it,_ Matt thought, walking a little faster. He wouldn’t go out tonight, not even if Karen subjected him to her pouting. He’d persevere. 

Matt Murdock was many things, but he was _not_ a pushover.

 

Josie’s was, in fact, one of the seediest bars Matt had ever been to. It was rank with cigarette smoke, the patrons all stunk of cheap alcohol and desperation, and the bar itself seemed to be infested with every bodily fluid known to mankind.

And yet, in walked Matt Murdock, human disaster.

“Matt!” Karen cried, bright and plucky. Matt recognized her heartbeat first. She rose to meet him, stumbling off of the barstool and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, smelling vaguely like her understated body spray and some kind of rubbing alcohol.

Matt stumbled at her embrace, but it was mostly just for show—he laughed good-naturedly and kept grinning when Foggy approached, Karen still holding onto him.

Foggy’s heartbeat was just as steady as it was a few hours ago. He seemed a bit more relaxed, though, calmer in the familiar surroundings; he, too, smelled vaguely of rubbing alcohol. “Hey, Matt,” he said, pleased and steady, like his heartbeat. “I hope you don’t mind we started without you. Karen insisted.”

“Lies!” Karen shouted, but it was muffled against Matt’s shoulder so it wasn’t too bad. Matt only winced a little bit. “Foggy was having a mental breakdown about impressing you, so I bought him the eel. That is _not_ insisting.”

Foggy spluttered, and Matt could faintly see the influx of heat toward his cheeks. _Blushing,_ Matt thought absently. _Shoot me._ “Not at all. But may I ask what the eel is?” he asked, if only to distract himself from trying to gauge just how warm Foggy’s cheeks were, and was rewarded with Karen’s snickering and Foggy’s exaggerated gasp.

“You’ve never had the eel?” Foggy demanded, scandalized. “Just how long have you lived in Hell’s Kitchen, exactly?”

Matt frowned at the rather abrupt question. “Um… M-My entire life?”

Foggy’s gasp was downright theatrical. “Karen Page! You have let this poor man live his entire life, about a year of it with your direct influence, without tasting the excellence of the eel?”

Karen’s snickers had turned to cackles, and she disentangled herself from Matt to presumably laugh in Foggy’s face. “Oh, Foggy, no one ever buys the eel unless you’re home.”

“I am outraged! Appalled! Come, Matthew, you’re drinking the eel with us tonight. I am about to lead you toward nirvana, if you’ll allow me,” he said grandly. His voice indicated nonchalance, but his hand was poised to lead, and the slight undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice and heartbeat made gratitude unfurl in Matt’s stomach.

Matt’s smile may have been a touch too fond for his own good when he accepted, and tried not to revel in the uptick of Foggy’s heart as he curled a hand around Foggy’s elbow.

The eel, it seemed, was the most horrendous form of liquor that Matt had ever tasted. He honestly didn’t even know what kind of liquor it _was._ It was barely worth any money, though, so they plowed through as much as they could handle. By the time it was last call, Karen was so drunk she’d decided to try and sleep on the bar, and Foggy was singing terrible drinking songs to make Matt laugh.

After a rousing rendition of _That’s What Bilbo Baggins Hates_ to the beat of Karen’s droning snores, Matt had almost snorted liquor out of his nose and Foggy finally calmed down enough to shoot back the rest of his drink.

“God, this has been the most fun I’ve had in a while,” Foggy confessed with the earnestness of only the truly plastered. He sounded serious, though, so Matt hummed in acknowledgement.

“Me, too,” he said honestly. He didn’t know when he’d last laughed as much as he had with Foggy and Karen. Probably since he’d last laughed with his dad.

“Oh, hey, buddy, don’t give me that face. That face is not meant to brood, man!”

Matt couldn’t help but grin a little idiotically. “Isn’t that one of the first things you’ve ever said to me? What—What did you call me? A duck?”

Foggy erupted in giggles. “A wounded duck. Aw, man, that face is heartbreaking. You look like the saddest, loneliest orphan in the world on Christmas. I wanted to hug the stuffing out of you, but accosting the blind guy without properly introducing yourself seemed a little too much.”

Matt’s smile felt wooden on his face, but he knew that Foggy meant well. He didn’t hold it against him. Much. “You aren’t that wrong,” he found himself saying, instead of politely excusing himself and leaving Foggy to deal with getting Karen home. Which might have been a dick move, but if he stayed any longer he might tell Foggy—

“Oh, no. I’m sorry,” Foggy said. Matt closed his eyes. “Karen said you were a little hermit crab, but I didn’t think… That’s terrible, Matt. I’m—”

“Please.” Matt interrupted, trying not to let his emotions overwhelm him. He always got teary when he was drunk, which was why he reserved alcohol for particularly hard nights by himself, but it was worse now because Foggy was _genuine._ He didn’t know Matt’s dad, or about his mother, or anything. But he was still sorry.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Matt continued, his voice thick. “It’s… done, and… Can we talk about something else?”

Foggy deliberated a moment; Matt heard his heartbeat tick up and then slow, like someone tampering with a metronome. Then, softly, “Yeah, buddy. We can talk about something else. What’s on your mind?”

“Thank you,” Matt said gratefully, a relieved smile lighting up his face. Foggy’s heart jumped again. Matt tried not to listen to it. “I was wondering more about… you, and Karen. Why are you back in Hell’s Kitchen?” He felt it was a valid question. Karen came back for business opportunity (or so she said, but her heart raced like she was lying), but Foggy… Karen had just said that her friend needed a place to stay for a while, to get back on his feet.

_“He’s been through a lot recently,”_ he remembered Karen saying. He wondered what Foggy had gone through a lot of.

At the question, breath rattled out of Foggy like he’d been smoking for twenty years. “Asking those tough questions, Murdock,” he muttered, and for a terrifying second Matt thought he’d been too invasive, but before he could apologize Foggy was leaning heavily on the bar and opening his mouth. “Chicago just… wasn’t home anymore. I don’t think it was ever home.”

Matt frowned at the sadness in Foggy’s voice. He leaned toward Foggy’s shadow, concerned. “What do you mean? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Foggy let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Dude, I stumbled over your apparent orphaning like, five minutes ago. You totally have free range of the hard questions.” He paused for a moment. “It’s just, hard to talk about, you know?”

Matt nodded. He knew.

“Okay, let’s see… Um, Karen told you I moved out to the University of Chicago with someone, right?” Foggy started, wary.

Matt’s smile was wry. “Your boyfriend?” he prompted, and was rewarded with Foggy’s drunken giggle, albeit a tired one.

“Yeah, boyfriend. Sort of. He’s an ex, now, but we’re getting to that. In any case, he got accepted to UC, and I could get accepted anywhere I applied, let’s be honest, I’m a genius, so we packed up our stuff, shared a tearful goodbye—” (Matt noted his heartbeat jumped, here— _lie_ ) “—and hopped on a plane. And we just… went. And lived. Seven years,” Foggy sighed, and Matt heard the gentle sounds of fingers against glass as he fiddled with his tumbler. “We lived together through me going to law school, and getting accepted into a firm. Corporate, soul-sucking; you’d hate it. But he stuck with me.” Foggy laughed, then, a sad, bitter sound. “Should have known it was too good to be true.”

Matt’s hand clenched reflexively. Knee-jerk reaction; fight, protect, avenge. “What did he do?”

Foggy giggled again, still sad. It made Matt grit his teeth. “How do you know it was him? I could’ve broken _his_ heart,” he joked, but Matt knew better. He was already shaking his head before Foggy finished talking.

“You wouldn’t,” Matt said, entirely sure. “You’re not the type of person.”

Foggy’s heart made a pleased sort of thump, or maybe Matt was just drunk. “Aw, buddy. I hate to disappoint you, but I’m an asshole.”

“Objection,” Matt said, “there is a blatant lack of evidence.”

“Overruled, I’m not done! And you don’t get to lawyer-sass me, Mister Murdock, or we will come down to fisticuffs,” Foggy sassed, and Matt laughed, bright and happy. Foggy’s heart made the pleased-thump noise again. “Alright. Back to my tale of woe. So, I’d been accepted into this firm, right? Snazzy, real fancy, had free bagels—loved it. But then I started looking closer at the cases, and…” Foggy sighed again, almost sounding frustrated. “It was dirty, what we were doing. Every single case, after every single client walked out scot-free, I wanted to throw up. So I worked overtime, tried to change shit from the inside. Obviously that didn’t work. I was just an intern, a fabulously bisexual intern, mind you, but no matter how fabulous and bisexual I was I was just not enough. And then I started to notice that when I’d come home late, Oliver wasn’t there.

“He… He never used to go out before. He always said that Chicago was a scary city on it’s own, nevertheless going out at night alone. But then I found out he _wasn’t_ alone.” Foggy paused, here, like he would if he’d knock back a shot. By the fiddling of his fingers against the tumbler, Matt guessed he wanted another. 

Foggy’s voice was small when he continued, “He’d been going out with other guys for almost the entire time we were dating. I was always studying, or—or working, you know? I never noticed. And he always seemed so happy to talk to me, to see me, I thought… I really thought he loved me. He says he did, that he still _does_ , he just… needed something more than what I could give him.” Foggy shrugged, but he didn’t narrate it to Matt. Even the sound of clothes rustling against his skin sounded sad. “So… we fought, I quit my internship, and moved back home. People everywhere are looking for lawyers with the whole aliens falling from the sky thing, am I right?” Foggy tried to joke, but it just fell flat. Matt could taste the slight tang of salt in the air, could hear the rasp of a sleeve against a stubbled cheek.

“Foggy…” Matt started, his heart breaking for this man, who Matt didn’t even know just a handful of hours ago, but now he knew, to the depths of his soul, he’d do _anything_ for. Anything to make him stop crying. Anything to make him happy.

“Hey!” Foggy sniffled, and Matt could tell even without sight that his smile was watery at best. “What did I say about that face? Enough of that, Murdock, let’s see if we can pester Josie into getting us another drink.”

“Over my dead body, Franklin Nelson!” Josie’s husky, chain-smoker voice called from afar. Judging by the echoes, she was in the kitchen behind the bar. “I will call your mother if you don’t get out of my bar in five minutes!”

Foggy was already jumping off the barstool, cursing colorfully in the way that reminded Matt of his childhood in the gym. “What are you doing?” Matt asked, giggling over the sounds of glass clinking together.

“I’m washing our glasses! If she calls my mom, Matt, I’m fucked! Wake up, Karen, damn you!” he whisper-shouted, and by the time Matt and Foggy got Karen out of the bar, they were all soaking from trying to wash glassware in the rickety sink by the bar and leaning on each other, laughing so hard their sides were sore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading!! Comments are my love, I know I don't respond to them all but I read them like nobody's business and they mean so, so much to me! If you don't want to leave a comment on here but want to say something to me, my tumblr is here: [x](http://nelson-and-murdick.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  Should I continue this little story? Idk, I'm seriously thinking about it, but I need some direction. Please give thoughts!
> 
> Also, the title is shamelessly lifted from a song called I Can't Make You Love Me by Bon Iver. It makes me cry every time I listen to it. It is here: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3VjaCy5gck/)


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